The Tudors: The Real Story tudors
by thewhitequeen26
Summary: Henry VII and Elizabeth of York have four living children, Margaret, Henry, Mary, and Edmund, when their youngest and final child is born. The little princess joins her siblings in for a wild ride, a tale of romance, lust, love, loss, and ultimate pleasure. In this epic drama spanning over a period of 40-50 years, ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to bring you this, my story.
1. Chapter 1

Henry VII and Elizabeth of York had six children: Arthur, Margaret, Henry, Elizabeth, Mary, and Edmund. Tragically, Elizabeth died at the age of three from atrophy in 1495, and Arthur died from the sweating sickness shortly after his marriage to Katherine of Aragon in 1502. However, in this story, the rest of the children are alive, and their mother is going to be giving birth to another one. Any moment now...

_**February 8, 1503**_

Queen Elizabeth had had enough. She had been in labor for three long, agonizing days. _When will it end?_, she thought to herself. _When my Arthur was born, the pain wasn't this bad...it wasn't this bad with any of them. Oh God in Heaven, why!_ "Argh!," she screamed as she let out another push. _Oh Lord_, the Queen thought, _please don't take another child of mine before it's time_.

Meanwhile, Henry VII sat seated outside his beloved wife's room. He sat in his car, with a worried look upon his face. Many thought that their "king of glass" was ready to break. Indeed, he was: Henry Tudor feared for his life when he took the crown at Bosworth, and while defending it from the Yorkist pretenders Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck. However, the fear he felt for his life was nothing compared to what he feared now. Nothing scared him more than the thought of losing his beloved wife.

_Oh Sweet Virgin_, the King thought. _Blessed Mother, let it be! Let this madness stop! I don't care what she has, just let my Bess be alright._ Clutching a rosary in his hands, Henry VII got on his knees to pray.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth was pushing more and more. Helping her in her bedchamber were her mother-in-law, Margaret Beaufort, and her eldest daughter, Princess Margaret. Despite the support she had from her family, Elizabeth felt alone. She needed someone besides her mother-in-law and daughter to help her through this. It doesn't matter how much she loved them, there was one person who helped her through this the first time, and she needed them to help her again: her mother, the late Queen Elizabeth Woodville.

"Argghhh! Oh no," Queen Elizabeth cried out, red in the face and all teary eyed. "Oh my God, please, please!"

"Mother," Princess Margaret gasped, clinging to her mother's hand, and putting water on her head. "Lady Grandmother can see the head, the child is almost out."

"Yes, Elizabeth, she is right."

Suddenly, the Queen opened her eyes. Though they couldn't see her, Elizabeth could. It was her: her mother.

"Mother?," Elizabeth cried out with a smile.

"Tis I," Elizabeth Woodville replied, smiling with a radiance of light illuminating around her. "Just one more push. One more push, and you can be with I and your grandmother again."

"Jacquetta?," Elizabeth replied.

"Yes my dove," cooed Elizabeth Woodville. "Grandmother Jacquetta."

Suddenly, Elizabeth gave up her fighting, and managed to push the child out. Suddenly she heard the crying. There it was: her latest child, her final child had been born.

"My Queen," Margaret Beaufort said sternly, "it is done." She wrapped the child up, and handed it to Princess Margaret, who examined the child for herself.

"Mother," she said, smiling with glee, "you've done it!"

"I have another son?," Elizabeth asked happily, still struggling with the pain.

"No, Lady Mother, thou has delivered a healthy sister."

"Oh," Elizabeth replied, looking at the ceiling. "Mother," she called. "Mother," she again cried out. "Thank you."

Thinking that she was talking to her, Margaret Beaufort grabbed her daughter-in-law's hand, and grew a proud smile.

Meanwhile, Henry VII still prayed furiously, until Princess Margaret came out to show him the news. Upon seeing his eldest daughter holding his youngest, he smiled, and made the sign of the cross. After kissing the child's head to show his approval, he rushed to see it's mother.


	2. Chapter 2

As Henry VII made his way into his queen's room with Princess Margaret trolling behind him while holding the new princess, all the maids and nobles bowed before him. Even his own mother bowed down to him, something that she hadn't done since he had taken King Richard's crown off his lifeless head at Bosworth Field. With a pleasant force, he slammed the doors to Queen Elizabeth's confinement open, and threw himself at his wife.

"Elizabeth," he called out, while lovingly gazing into her fleeting eyes. He felt her cold hands, and immediately kissed them, rubbing him with his to warm her up. "Bessie...Bessie?"

"Henry," Elizabeth softly replied, looking straight into her husband's eyes. "I'm so sorry, my Lord..."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Henry replied while stroking her head, then kissing her on the lips. "You've delivered me a healthy daughter. And because of that, I thank you. My lady. My queen."

Henry held Elizabeth close to him, and put her head on his heart. Suddenly, the clock struck 12. Midnight. In two days would be the queen's thirty-seventh birthday. Having told his spies that he had another healthy child, fireworks were starting to go off. Henry held Elizabeth, and had her look straight across the window.

"Look, darling," he muttered, while kissing her head. "They're for you, just for you!" He held her in his arms as he cried out, "Lizzie...Bess, oh sweet Bess, you're the best queen any king has either had. I thank God for marrying you." Then, he took her face, and held it inches away from his. "If I had to do it all over again...I would. No regrets, no changes...only that I would've had you crowned in a heartbeat the moment I married you."

Suddenly, as he planted a big kiss on his wife's lips and his new infant cried, Elizabeth lost consciousness.

"Elizabeth?," Henry asked. "Bess? Bessie?" He knew something was wrong.

"Fetch the doctor," the king said, composed with a look of fear on his face."

"But sire," a sqwir begun to say.

"NOW!," replied Henry, screaming in an angry, high pitched voice.

Then, he looked around the room. "Get out," he yelled. Everyone stared. "I SAID GET OUT, NOW! ALL OF YOU!"

As everyone left, Margaret Beaufort and Princess Margaret froze. "Not you," Henry said. "You stay...mother...daughters..."

~February 11, 1503~

Although it was the queen's birthday, a luminous gloom was in the air at Richmond Palace. Queen Elizabeth was still unconscious. King Henry was at her side, and had to come to terms to what he feared most in this world: his beloved queen, his wife, his one, true love was going to die.

The princes Harry and Edmund had gone to bid their mother goodbye. After them, their sisters, Margaret and Mary. Finally, after leaving her mother's room, Princess Margaret handed unto her father her newborn sister, who still didn't have a name. Henry hugged her daughter, who went to her grandmother and namesake, with tears in her eyes. Though usually a shrewd, uncaring woman, Margaret Beaufort held the young princess in her arms very tight, and escourted her into the halls. Holding his last daughter, his last child with the woman he loved, Henry prepared to face his final fears: he was prepared to say goodbye to his wife.

Queen Elizabeth tossed and turned in her bed, slipping in and out of consciousness. Henry drew closer, holding the child in one arm, and Elizabeth's hand in his free hand.

"Bess?," Henry called out, struggling not to cry."Baa..Baa..Bessiiee?"

"Mother?," Elizabeth called out nervously. "Mother?"

Now Henry started to let his cries come out. "No...Bess...it's me-ee...Hen..ry.."

"Henry?," Elizabeth cried out, struggling to open her eyes. Now, they were open. "Henry!," she said with a smile, while struggling to move to kiss her husband. "Oh..my love..you're not mad?"

"At you? Oh Bess!," Henry said as he kissed her hand. "Never."

"But..Perkin Warbeck...the bastard...who..pretended..to..be...my...broth..err-"

"Shhhhh," Henry cooed. "Let's talk not of that. The worst days of our marriage, and of our lives." He grabbed her hand, and squeezed it, holding it to his face. "I never, ever, blamed you for any of it. How could I, my most loyal, trusted servant. Friend. Confidant. Lover. Wife."

Now Henry let it all out and started to cry. "Lizzie, you were the first true friend I ever had. You're the only person I could ever fully trust in my life. You, and my mother, and my uncle, Jasper. You all were the only ones who ever truly loved me and cared for me besides our children."

"That's right, Henry," Elizabeth replied. "So many years...and you finally got it right. Though, you never really doubted me. Ahh!" She was in pain.

"No, Bess!," Henry said, holding her and their child, who let out a cry, both very close. "Shhhh. Rest now, my darling. Rest now, my sweet, sweet Bess."

"Oh Henry," Elizabeth replied weakly yet with strength. "Henry...Harry..you were always a good husband...the best husband...the best king...I..I loved my father..I loved him so much...but he could never honor her...my mother...he never did...he frightened a kingdom by marrying her, but he could never honor her. He had to embarrass her...embarrass us..."

Suddenly, Elizabeth looked Henry straight into his big, soft, brown eyes, "You could never do that to me, Henry. Either...even before we grew to..love...each..other..you could never hurt me...Never...You're right...Henry, you're not my father. You're not...Edward VI...York king beloved by people...You're Henry the Tu-Tudor king...beloved by his mother...his uncle...his family...his wife...and because of that...you are a much better man...a more honorable and therefore better king...than Edward IV was..."

Henry couldn't contain himself anymore. The king who nobles said was cold and made of stone broke down in complete tears. Now the dying queen was consoling the heartbroken king, and, while still holding their child, he allowed himself to sink deeply into her arms. Her soft, warm, loving arms.

"Years from now, people will say things about me...about us...they're report truths and lies in the history books...they will speak of evil things...**coughs** but know this, Henry Tudor...know this, my love...there is only one man whom I have lain with, given myself to, and loved wholeheartdely with every inch and breath of my being...you."

Henry looked up, and kissed Elizabeth. While gazing into her eyes and stroking her hair, he replied, "And I you."

"But the girl...in Brittany..."

"I thought it was love," he replied. "But I didn't know it was mere lust until I met you."

Together, husband and wife, king and queen, lay in each other's arms with their newborn between them for seven hours. Seven hours for the seven children, living and dead, that they had had. Suddenly, both knew that their time was up. They knew that Elizabeth had to go.

"Henry," Elizabeth softly cried out.

Grabbing hold of her head, Henry replied. "Yes, Bess. My one, true love?"

"Promise me that you won't blame her for this...the child...it is not of her doing...but of God's..."

"I know, Bess," Henry replied crying, "By God, I know. I do not nor will I ever blame this child for anything. This beautiful, jewel of a child...the child..the child! Bess, sweet Bess, she needs a name. What is her name!"

Suddenly Elizabeth looked up. She smiled, she cried.

"Mother...father...oh Edward and Richard...Mary...Jasper Tudor, I was just talking about you...and oh my...grandmother. Jacquetta."

It was finished. With those last words, Elizabeth of York, daughter, niece, wife of a king and mother to a future king was gone. Henry closed her eyes before doing the sign of the cross over her body. He put his infant daughter down, and rocked his dead queen in his arms while humming the tune that played at their wedding when they danced for the first time as husband and wife, and king and queen. So it was the first, now it was the last.

~Several hours later~

King Henry took the infant out of the room. Everyone was waiting, when he said, "Alright. I'm ready. We can prepare the body...for the services..."

"But sire," a council member called out.

"What?"

"Your child. What is the name of your child?"

Suddenly, the last word on the tip of Elizabeth's tongue ran through Henry's mind. _Jacquetta_. "Jacquetta," he sternly replied, gazing at the child. "Her name is Princess Jacquetta."

He handed her over to Princess Margaret, and looked at his mother in the eye. She nodded, knowing what she must do. Suddenly, the king ran, retreating to his chambers, breaking down behind closed doors to let himself cry and not be judged as a broken king.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Summer 1503_**

Although Henry VII was heartbroken by Queen Elizabeth's death and continued to mourn her, he had to compose himself for another loss. However, though it would be a physical loss for him, it would be a great gain for not one, but two kingdoms. Yes, this was it. The moment finally came when his eldest daughter, Margaret, had to leave for Scotland.

Many were concerned about how the king would be parting with another child. He was so shaken by the queen's death that he withdrew from politics to spend time with his remaining children, especially the newborn, Princess Jacquetta. In fact, he took much solace in his youngest child, having a nurse to feed her, but looking after and raising the child solely by himself. He didn't even let his mother take over duties for the princess; he had all the responsibility, and took comfort and pride in raising his youngest and, what he though would be final, daughter.

_**June 27, 1503**___

While Margaret was finishing getting ready, she heard a knock at her door: it was her father Henry VII.

"Your Grace," Margaret relied, bowing to her father.

"No, no," Henry replied, putting his hands out to help his eldest surviving child get up, "you need not bow before me, Margaret. I'm your king, but I'm also your father." He then pulled her into his arms in a hug. "And besides," he continued, "soon you will be queen. Just like your mother."

For the first time since she was a little girl, Margaret rested her head on her father's shoulder. "I know, Father," she replied. "But I can't help but be so afraid. I'm so young, and he's so...old-"

"It will work, Margaret," Henry replied. "It must."

Margaret looked down, with her eyes cast away. "I wished to marry for love. Not for money, power, or glory." Suddenly, she looked back up, gazing her father straight in his big, brown eyes. "Or alliances."

"Meggie," Henry softly cooed. "Your mother and I married not for love, but for power, and glory. For a power alliance. Yet, it was meant to be. It didn't happen overnight, God knows that, but we grew to love each other. **smiles upright** I didn't know then, but the fates had decided that I be with the love of my life before I even knew it myself."

"But not every royal marriage is like your's and My Lady Mother's, God rest her soul," Margaret cried out. "Papa, you're a good man! Mama always told us, and Arthur, Henry, Mary, and I-we always saw it. You never shamed her or us, what most kings did and still do to their families." Then Margaret looked down, her eyes swollen. "What if he shames me? What if he-forces himself on me, to give him a child?" Then, her eyes met up at her father's. "Mother never told me what to do. She was going to. Until she...she..."

Henry bit his lip, and let out a slight tear while holding his worried daughter in his arms. "Meggie," he sternly stated, "if I could, I would tell you of such things, but as your father, I cannot."

Margaret composed herself, and Henry continued talking.

"But you do have Your Lady Grandmother. In fact, she was your age when she birthed me, and a year younger when she married my father."

"But she's so cold, Father."

"Meggie, she loves you," Henry replied. "After all, I did name you after her. She cares for you deeply. You haven't seen it, but you will. Especially on this journey." The king looked down. "Ask her, and My Lady Mother will tell you of these things. The things you shall do, the things you shall see."

Margaret composed herself, realizing she had to face her destiny.

"So I guess this is goodbye?," she coldly asked her father.

"On the contrary, far from it," Henry replied with a hint of happiness in his voice. "I shall accompany you on your journey solidifying your destiny as the Queen of Scots. I don't know if I can stay for the festivilites, but your grandmother will be there to help you."

Margaret smiled, as her father told her hands. "Don't worry, Margaret," he swiftly said. "You're not alone."

"But what of Henry, Mary and Jacquetta?"

"They shall be cared far at Richmond Palace. I'll be back with them as soon as I know that you're safe, secure-and that the marriage is official."

Then, they set out to leave, and began their journey. While in their barge, Margaret asked her father a question.

"Does it feel odd, leaving Jacquetta behind?"

Henry smiled, and soon replied. "Yes, Meggie. She is all I have left of your mother, besides you, Harry, and Mary, of course. And when the time comes to where I have to escourt her and say goodbye to her and Mary, I will truly be a broken hearted man."

Margaret looked out the window, while her father continued to talk.

"They say that the male is the heir, and that the female is used as the accessory. While this is true, I cannot bear to gaze at it that way. Perhaps it was because I never grew up in a true home, my Uncle Jasper and I were running into exile all the time, but a man's heart is truly empty until he learns the joy that is brought to it from having daughters. They may not carry the house name in their seed, but they carry it through them and the heirs or their husbands through their blood."

Then, she turned to her father, and asked, "So I am of Lancaster and of York?"

"Yes, Meggie," Henry replied. "You're a Tudor rose."

"Will they like me?," she asked.

"Yes Meggie. In fact, they're love you."


End file.
